


Maybe We Could... Cuddle A Bit?

by startrekkingaroundasgard



Series: 31 Days of Ficmas 2020 [14]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Planet, Blizzards & Snowstorms, F/M, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, Mutual Pining, Roleswap, Sacha Dhawan is the Doctor (Doctor Who), Self-Doubt, Sharing Body Heat, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28067760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard
Summary: A malfunction traps The Doctor and the reader in a room with only one bed where they must huddle together to keep warm.Roleswap AU - Dhawan!Doctor
Relationships: The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Reader, The Master (Dhawan)/Reader
Series: 31 Days of Ficmas 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035468
Kudos: 27





	Maybe We Could... Cuddle A Bit?

Eden. The most temperate planet in the galaxy. An adaptive atmosphere that perfectly regulated the air around every living thing to the most comfortable temperature for each being, capable of changing its very composition for easy breathing and a pleasant trip. It was meant to be paradise. That was why The Doctor had brought you here, having decided that you deserved a well earned rest after the past few weeks.

Such a shame that you arrived on the single day in history when the system was on the fritz.

In his defence, the system had been working perfectly well when you’d first arrived. You’d stepped out of the TARDIS onto a beach that seemed to stretch out into forever, fine pink sand beneath your feet, a sweet-saltiness in the air as the crystal clear ocean lapped lazily at the shore. As you’d taken in the beauty around you, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of you.

The Doctor knew he shouldn’t have these feelings towards you. His hearts had been broken so many times, he couldn’t bear to risk that pain again, to see his love and affection for you poison everything as it always did, to knowingly lead you into disaster and be unable to save you. But old, sentimental man that he was, The Doctor simply couldn’t help it.

You were curious, quick witted. You listened to his long, sometimes rambling he could admit, explanations with a bright smile on your face, every fibre of your being dedicated to absorbing the smallest of details. You cared so much and were so strong, always willing to stand up for what you thought was right – even when it meant going against him. You balanced him out, kept him grounded and simply shone.

How could he not adore you?

Sometimes, though, it did cause a few problems and today had definitely turned into one of those days when everything seemed to go wrong. First, on the basis of his psychic paper spinning you the wonderful identity of visiting royals, the reception had given you one of the best suites. A stunning view over the emerald bay, the more luxurious furniture this side of Orion. The issue was, as a supposed visiting royal couple, she’d only given you one bed.

And then just as The Doctor had convinced you that he would be perfectly fine sleeping on the sofa – which was, admittedly, quite comfortable but more importantly not your bed and far enough away from you that he could at least pretend to ignore his feelings for the time being – the adaptive atmosphere had failed.

It hadn’t been all that noticeable to start, at least not to The Doctor. Time Lords weren’t as sensitive to the heat as humans, and his woolly vest kept him warm regardless. You, on the other hand, were not so protected against the cold and by the time he realised that you needed to get back to the safety of the TARDIS it was too late.

Elbows perched on the window ledge, you pressed your forehead against the glass, arms wrapped around your middle in a doomed attempt to keep warm. Outside, a blizzard raged. Shimmering crystals fell from thick, twisting clouds that blocked out the light of the artificial suns, refracting wavelengths of impossible energy to leave shining trails as small particulates were launched in every direction.

“Doctor,” you gasped, your breath a lingering cloud in the air. “Look at it. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s remarkable.”

The Doctor stood beside you, a heat rising to his cheeks as you instinctively shuffled closer. A biological imperative, he chided. You were cold and he was not, you needed the extra heat to survive. That was all. Nothing to overthink about. Still, he couldn’t help but imagine a world where maybe there was more to your behaviour, that perhaps you did simply want to be close to him for the same reasons he longed to be near you. Old men could dream.

As the scent of you threatened to overwhelm his sensibilities, The Doctor whipped out his sonic and scanned the outside, falling back on the cold facts of science to centre his thoughts. “The microscopic particles in the atmosphere that control the weather are malfunctioning. They’re pulling heat and moisture from the air, converting the energy into… something else.”

“Dangerous?”

“Doesn’t look like there’s a lethal build up of energy anywhere. It’s just going to get a bit cold until the service crew land and fix the system.”

“A bit?” you exclaimed, looking down at your nails as they started to turn blue. “Any chance we can leave before it gets very cold?”

The Doctor smiled tightly, wishing that he could give you better news. “I’m afraid the only option is to wait it out. Why don’t you, ah, make yourself comfortable in the bed.” You reflection in the icy window grew surprised and he quickly clarified, “Lots of blankets there, I mean.”

Back purposefully turned as you climbed into bed, The Doctor searched the rest of the suite for any further blankets. Unfortunately, what with this being Eden and all, where a perfectly temperate climate somewhat negated the need for extra layers, the two already out were the only ones around. And, as you quickly found, they were there much more for style than substance. The extraordinarily beautiful but depressingly thin blankets would do little to keep you warm as the temperature continued to drop.

A call down to the reception proved unhelpful too. The poor woman on the desk was so stressed that she kept reverting to her natural language, one The Doctor knew well enough to pick out the colourful profanities reserved for other whinging guests. Additional blankets would be sent up if any could be located but the chances were slim.

That left only one really viable option, especially now that even his advanced biology was starting to struggle to regulate the cold. However, given how he felt for you, The Doctor was more than slightly anxious to put it forward. Thankfully, if it could be considered such, you beat him to it.

Your head popped out from beneath the cocoon of bedding, your hair sticking out at all manner of peculiar angles. It was, frankly, adorable although the Time Lord would never admit it. He had, he was ashamed to say, imagined you in a similar situation before. Waking up together, your face on the pillow beside him, all of your walls down, vulnerable in that early morning way that you only ever showed the people you were closest with.

Teeth chattering, a vivid reminder of the severity of the situation, you still smiled at the crystals that formed in the air as you exhaled. Always able to see the beauty despite the dire scenario; just another of the things that he loved about you. “Doctor?”

“Yes?” He shoved his hands in his pockets so that he wouldn’t fiddle and stood awkwardly at the edge of the bed.

“I know you don’t… I mean, I wouldn’t ask if I could see another way but… And I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable only -”

Who knew you would be as stumped as him when it came to asking such a simple thing. Unable to stand it any longer, The Doctor shooed you across the mattress and perched on the edge to remove his shoes. Then he slipped under the covers and lay on his side, facing you.

Your lips were so close to his. It was incredibly… distracting? Exciting? Dangerous? All of the above, he concluded. The Doctor tore his gaze from your lips and met your gaze, so intense that it almost knocked him for six. All too aware that only inches separated you, The Doctor swallowed deeply and asked, “Is this okay?”

You shrugged. “I’m still pretty cold. Maybe we could just… cuddle a bit? Extra body warmth and everything?”

Was that anticipation that he could hear in your voice? Surely he was imagining it. You waited for him to nod, a sharp, stiff response that caused your expression to fall. You rolled onto your back and sighed. “It’s alright. Don’t worry.”

Before he knew what he was doing, The Doctor shuffled up against your side and wrapped an arm around your waist. Sharing your pillow, he nuzzled your neck, breathing in the softness of your scent. His hearts beat wildly in his chest and yet he felt more at peace than he had in centuries. This closeness was all he desired. 

However, you froze at his touch – not literally, at least not yet, but that was almost worse – and he panicked. Were you angry? He knew he’d been a fool to think that you’d wanted this too. This was exactly what he had feared, that you would hate him and the friendship between you would shatter the moment you realised his deeper feelings for you.

Muttering a pathetic apology, The Doctor pulled back. But then you caught his wrist and tugged with just a little more force than was probably necessary. You rolled into his chest and rest your head against his shoulder, your arm around his middle in a tight embrace. A hand found his and you trailed circling patterns over the back of his hand.

Naturally, he tried to decipher the message but the patterns held no greater point in Gallifreyan. That wasn’t to say that they were meaningless, though. Any doubt vanished from his mind as you shimmied, repositioning yourself so that you were chest to chest, face to face, and brushed your lips against his.

You leaned back and looked at him with eyes so wide, a spark of fear dancing across your own expression – and no doubt mirrored in his own. You searched his face for something, anything, and must have come up a blank for you asked, “Doctor?”

The Doctor searched every language in the universe for the right words to say but none adequately encapsulated his feelings. The answer was simple, though. He cupped your face and kissed you again, soft and slow and sweet, and held you in his arms until long after the blizzard passed.


End file.
